JETHRO TULL
Crest of a Knave
Mountain Men Lyrics

Mountain Men

The poacher and his daughterThrow soft shadows on the water in the night.A thin moon slips behind themAs they pull the net with no betraying light.And later on the coast road, I meet themAnd the old man winks a smile.And who am I to fast deny the rightTo take a fish once in a while? I walk with them, they wish me luckWhen I ship out on the sunday from the kyle.And from the church I hear them singingAs the ship moves sadly from the pier.Oh, poacher's daughter, sunday best,Two hundred brave souls share the farewell tear.

There's a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.Lay down and let the slow tide wash meBack to the land where I came from.Where the mountain men are kingsAnd the sound of the piper counts for everything.

Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me.Died in the trenches and at el alamein...died in the falklands on t.v.Going back to the mountain kingsWhere the sound of the piper counts for everything.

Long generations from the islesSent to tread the foreign milesWhere the spiral ages meet.Felt naked dust beneath their feet.Future sun called winds to blowAnd the past and present hard-eyed crowFlew hunting high and circling low over blackened plains of eden.

There's a child and a woman praying for an end to the mystery.Hoping for a word in a letterFair wind-blown from across the seaTo where the mountain men are kingsAnd the sound of the piper counts for eveything.

There's a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.Lay down and let the slow tide wash meBack to the land where I came from.Where the mountain men are kingsAnd the sound of the piper counts for everything.Where the real mountain men are kingsAnd the sound of the piper counts for everything.